King of all goat

Bring out the miniature violins: my work schedule is such that I yield a lot of digestive real estate to mediocre, boring, or just plain bad food, and revisiting the spots I truly love is a rare pleasure. My burning ardor for Birrieria Zaragoza never flickers, never dims, and there are occasions when I’m simply pining for that roasty good goat. The matter wouldn’t be so desperate if Juan and familia would simply relocate to the north side, but at least they’re going to get bit closer next week when they open second branch in western suburban Melrose Park.

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